


Red Fortune

by GStK



Series: Something Different [3]
Category: Hyouka & Kotenbu Series
Genre: Aromanticism, F/M, One-Sided Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 14:02:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2071035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GStK/pseuds/GStK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five chances. You take four.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Fortune

**Author's Note:**

> Second-person POV. Can be read as a stand-alone.

You have a feeling about him.

Like so many things in life, you cannot explain why that is; you simply do. It's hard to see what goes on behind his eyes, when he drops the curtain back and retires to the back of his mind, but you like to entertain the idea that he _knows_. He says he doesn't, says it's all up to Lady Luck, but when has your faith in him ever been misplaced?

"Thank you, Oreki-san," you breathe, when your latest mystery has wound down to its final act, and its star players have taken their bows. You look to him and smile, memorising the fall of his bangs and the curious colour of his eyes.

He narrows his eyes--not at you, not in anger, but in sceptic disbelief, at the very idea that he has to be thanked at all. "It was nothing," he mumbles, and you know exactly what's to come next: "Just luck."

"But still!" you insist, and his lips thin when you take a step closer to his chair, balling your hands into fists. "It's very impressive! I would've never thought of what you came up with!"

He says nothing. He simply turns away and looks to the other end of the clubroom, where Ibara-san is scolding Fukube-san for something or other. Their voices are just distant noise, and you find you can't focus on them, not when you're so taken in by the boy in front of you.

You can't put a name to what it is you feel, but you do know this: you trust him.

You take a seat next to him, and though he glances at you, he does not object.

* * *

You have feelings for him.

It's not you who figures it out, but Ibara-san, who looks just as concerned as you feel when you ask her for help. You tell her the strange feelings you've had lately, quiet distress in your voice, and...

When she looks like she's about to laugh, you are, for once, upset with your friend.

"Is it funny?" you ask her softly, worriedly. "I thought it was serious..."

"It is!" Ibara-san rushes to assure you, holding up a hand to stay your objections. Her other goes to her mouth, and you can see her grin peeking up over the edges. "It's just..."

Not even years of learning proper etiquette can keep the frustration out of your voice. "Ibara-san!"

"I'm sorry!" she says, and that at least mollifies you, since she has enough decency to look a little bit ashamed. "But, Chii-chan. It honestly sounds like you like him."

"Of course I do!" you insist, and now you're even louder than before. Ibara-san looks surprised. "As a club member, and as a friend, Oreki-san is--"

"Ah, not like that." Ibara-san does this sweeping motion with her hand to cut you off, shaking her head. "I mean in the other way. The boy way."

"'The boy way,'" you repeat. The gears in your mind creak to life, ever slowly. "As in... the way you like Fukube-san?"

"Well, sure. What other way is there?" she frowns for a second, considering, but after just a beat, she's back. "I bet you'll have more luck than I do, though." She sighs. "Oreki's not who I'd go for, but at least he's up front, you know?"

"-luck?"

"Yeah? When you tell him. Which you should." Ibara-san glances towards the door to her room, like she expects Oreki-san and Fukube-san to walk in at any minute. "Really... for you to pick a guy like Oreki. That's like a once-every-million-years kind of thing, huh?" But then she looks back at you, and her smile is kind, empathetic. "But it's not like you can pick who you like."

Later, curled up on your floor at home, you clutch your toy eggplant close and think on the feelings Ibara-san has given voice to.

You like him.

You do.

Maybe you shouldn't. Maybe you shouldn't tell him. Your parents, for all the things they've taught you, have never warned you about this. Your heart pounds loud as you shut your eyes tight.

But you like him. And you have to trust in that.

Your cheeks flush hot as your heart settles in your chest.

* * *

You don't know what to say to him.

Because he doesn't.

He doesn't like you.

The knowledge that he doesn't is a thin cord that wraps around your heart and chokes it, wrenching you back to reality with each sickening beat.

But more than that. What matters more than that is.

You've hurt him.

You can see it in his eyes, the way they widen and stay that way, his brows scrunching up in clear conflict. You've never seen that expression on him before, but it echoes the ones you have seen, a million times over: shock. dismay. defeat.

There's a magnet trying to pull your eyes down to your feet, but you keep your head up, refusing to look away. It hurts to see him like this, and it hurts even more to know that it's your fault. But looking away would be avoiding responsibility. Looking away would mean being more selfish than you know how.

He doesn't like you.

"Chitanda. I..." he starts, and his hand spasms; he curls it into a fist atop the table, ducking his eyes and glancing away. He grits his teeth and goes unnaturally still. This is the most uncomfortable you've ever seen him, and he's never been comfortable around you, not in the way you wish he could've been. "I can't-- I don't. I...

"I'm sorry."

There have been times when he's wound himself too tight, and those are the times that he comes off as too abrasive, pushing you away, cutting you with words he doesn't even mean. Those are times, rare as they are, that even you have been hurt. You've always understood. But he's never said sorry.

And hearing him apologise now is the nail that drives it all through you. You smile.

"Oreki-san," you say, and you have to will yourself to keep going when he flinches. "I should be the one to say that. I was too forward. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Chitanda--"

"I apologise," you continue, and that effectively shuts him up. He still hasn't looked your way. "I just hope that we can still be friends?"

"... yeah."

In the days after, you edge around each other, but he falls back into routine as easy as breathing. You didn't seem to make a lasting impact, and for that, you are glad. So why is it that everything has become twice as hard for you?

In the weeks after, you decide: this is not a mystery that you should have tried solving.

* * *

You're not sure if you should think of him.

University is a wind that wraps its arms around you all and ghosts you along to a new stage of life. You're a shoe-in for Todai and their program of agriculture. The big city has so many sights and marvels that you have never seen, and though your curiosity has slowly dialed back, it has never been abated. You wrap yourself up in Tokyo as much as it wraps itself around you.

Oreki-san, Ibara-san, and Fukube-san all end up in the same university in a quieter, more familiar town, renowned for its liberal arts and not much else. Knowing that they're together gives you more peace of mind than you would've thought.

"Fukube-san," you ask, on the first of many trips you make to visit them. "What's it like? Living with Oreki-san."

"Hmm?" Fukube-san replies, looking at you with surprise, but not in an unwelcome way. That's what you've always liked about him best: for as strange as things can get, he's never truly fazed. "It's pretty normal, I think. Houtarou's kinda lazy, but he doesn't stay up late or leave huge messes or anything." He laughs a little, and his eyes, on you, are shining. "Why? What's up?"

"Ah! I was just wondering," you say, the smallest bit flustered, but you relax when he smiles at you good-naturedly. "I was almost wondering if he'd changed... since we were in the Classics Club."

Fukube-san scrunches up his face, tilting the pencil in his hand towards his cheek. "I dunno if Houtarou's the kind of guy who _can_ change." But after a moment, he shakes his head, moving to scribble something down in his notebook. "I mean... for the most part, he hasn't. But at the same time he kinda has! It's a little hard to explain."

It's a little hard to understand, too. Fukube-san seems content to leave it at that, but something in you presses for answers. "Do you mean he's matured?"

"You might say that." Fukube-san folds his notebook shut, setting his chin in his hands and looking off into the distance -- or, to be more precise, towards the classroom building for arts students. "Houtarou's never been someone to get involved with other people, you know? If we never talked to him, he probably wouldn't even have friends."

And now that you're older, you can hear some of the spite that Fukube-san has always threaded into his words, even in jest. But he's still smiling, and the look in his eyes has suddenly become so fond that, somehow, you feel like you've noticed more than just that.

"But I guess you could say that he's started opening up a little.-- Oh!" Fukube-san looks startled, and when you follow his eyes, you understand why: Ibara- and Oreki-san are coming this way. He starts waving at them, raising his other hand to his mouth to yell. "Mayaka! Houtarou! You finally came!"

For his efforts, Fukube-san has to deal with shoving and grumbles from two people, who scowl and  huff when the students pouring out of the building turn towards them. Ibara-san relents first, greeting you with a hug that Fukube-san immediately heckles as " _just as attention-grabbing, Mayaka_." That just renews her annoyance, and when she turns to chide him some more, your attention shifts to the only other person in the group. He stares back at you, quiet.

Oreki-san looks the same as always, despite losing the uniform and gaining a few centimetres. He still looks like the boy you fell for in high school, and you almost start to doubt what Fukube-san claimed.

But then he says,

"Chitanda." He doesn't look elsewhere, and he doesn't look uncomfortable. It's as if he's finally settled into his own skin. "Do you wanna go to the cafeteria?"

You're almost so surprised that you can't speak. When you offer a quiet, "I'd love to, Oreki-san," he nods at you and starts to lead the way.

As you're walking away, Fukube-san tries to say something: "Houtarou! Weren't we going to--" But Ibara-san cuts him off, elbowing him with a firm expression.

"So," Oreki-san starts. "How's Todai?"

It takes you a second to answer him, because you're not sure of what you're hearing. You look askance at him, at a face unrecognisable for its alertness, and smile.

You speak freely to him for the first time in months, all feelings and excitement, and it is easy to trust Fukube-san's words when you can see it for yourself.

* * *

You still have feelings for him.

Five days of staying in town during the break after midterms -- five days of seeing him, speaking to him, just being near him have confirmed that.

But your heart beats steady, nothing like the frantic pulse it kept when you were younger.

It's during that last evening before you're due to go back that you and Oreki-san go on a walk, taking a slow stroll through the university's modest gardens for a moment of quiet. The dying sun paints the flowers in shades of red and purple, and he is dyed the same.

You say nothing until he speaks himself.

"It was nice. Seeing you," he says. He looks off to the side, but the action feels more habitual than out of any real embarrassment. "It was kind of like being back at Kamiyama."

"It was nostalgic, wasn't it?" you agree, folding your hands together. These past five days have been something of a dream, tugging you back towards the past even as you see the changes time has brought. Being together feels natural. "I think I'd like to come visit you all again after finals."

"That's not a bad idea," Oreki-san notes, drawing his hands out of his pockets. "Mayaka,"--you look to him in question--"Ibara," he corrects. "Would probably like that. Satoshi too."

 _He's more mature_ , a voice in you whispers, and it's the same voice that brings you to ask, "Would you, Oreki-san?"

The question seems to catch him off guard, and when he glances at you, the look in his eyes is calculating. After all these years, you still have no idea where his mind is going. You've tried to follow it so many times before, but never have you succeeded. Silence blankets you both.

And then he says, "Yeah." He doesn't look away, but he keeps his eyes on you. "I would."

Over the quiet, you hear your heart quicken. You realise, dimly, that Oreki-san would've never admitted as much years ago. It's just like Fukube-san said, and it's just like you've seen for yourself, for five days in a row. Oreki-san has changed.

So maybe.

You still have feelings for him.

And maybe...

You shut your eyes.

"Then I will." You nod to yourself. What comes out of your mouth next isn't, _I still like you_ , but instead, "Thank you, Oreki-san. That means a lot."

And he replies with a quiet, "Yeah."

The sunset fades, taking with it its reds, its chances and its hues. Only the evening blue remains.

Maybe this is a risk you don't have to take.


End file.
